


Trying to Connect the Dots

by mini_puffs



Series: Trying to Connect the Dots [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Accidental Confession, Fluff, Late at Night, M/M, Oneshot, Spider-man!Skeppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26167543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mini_puffs/pseuds/mini_puffs
Summary: “Skeppy?” Bad whispers. He adjusts his glasses and squints, inching closer and cupping the side of Skeppy’s face. His hands are warm. Then, much louder,“Skeppy?!”He smiles weakly. “Hey, Bad.”“You’re Spider-man?!” Bad’s jaw drops and he covers his mouth with his hand, eyes widening.“What the fu—muffin—“In which they both have a confession to make, but Skeppy’s is a bit more extreme.
Relationships: Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Series: Trying to Connect the Dots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009554
Comments: 65
Kudos: 778





	Trying to Connect the Dots

Ever since that fucking spider bit him, Skeppy’s seen a lot of shit in the city. Shit that he’s had the _pleasure_ of stopping or attempting to save. Pick any crime or go onto any TV show and he can guarantee he’s stopped people from committing it in real life at least once: robberies, armed robberies, arson, assault, armed assault--many of which are permanently drilled into his memory from his early days of fighting villainy. If it weren’t for his enhanced healing, he’d be put out of the superhero gig for the rest of his life thanks to those injuries. Nowadays, those run-ins don’t happen as often and he usually spends the rest of his patrols saving cats in trees, giving people directions, and swinging around the city.

With that experience under his belt, he’s gotten (or at least he likes to think, shut up Mega) good at spotting anything suspicious. Dark alleyway? Definitely something fishy there. A scream? Danger. Late at night and a group of people in a windowless van driving down the street? They’re up to something. He pretty much can handle anything the universe throws at him, with the mask and without.

Yet there’ll be some things that he doesn’t know how to deal with. Like right now, sitting on a rooftop with his legs dangled over the edge precariously, watching the faint figure of his best friend weaving in and out of the crowds with his hood up and black duffle bag slung on his back.

It’s not the first time—he sees Bad during patrols a lot. Whether it’s in crowds or on the street, Bad’s easy to spot. He’ll be the one helping people cross the street or climbing trees to rescue whatever animal ended up there. It’s given Skeppy many opportunities to save or talk to him in hero-mode, to the point where Bad will gush about Spider-man in their normal conversations. While he doesn’t plan on revealing his identity to anyone, he sometimes wishes he could, but that’d put Bad in more danger than he should be in.

The duffle bag raises a few questions, though. Especially seeing how he dipped into an alleyway with a speed that normal people wouldn’t. Bad can handle himself just fine, but Skeppy slips his mask on and aims at the brick wall across the street. “Anything happening?” He asks, swinging over.

The message pops up once he’s landed on the building’s rooftop. _Nothing, he’s fine,_ Mega types. When he’s webbed the next wall, he adds, _I hope you miss and fall._

“Wha—“ He actually does and spends a second free-falling before regaining control. Mega spams a stream of “L”’s in the corner of his vision. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, nothing happened! You did that on purpose!”

_Nah, that was all you,_ is the fast reply. Skeppy’s pretty sure he’s laughing his head off. Jerk. Out of all the people to realize his superhero identity, of course it had to be him. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know Mega was in the room when he took off his mask--the guy could be silent when he wanted to be. _I’m going to sleep. If you die, that’s not my fault._

Great. Skeppy makes it to the apartment complex and lands on the opposite edge of Bad, back facing him. If Bad knows he’s there, he doesn’t show it and continues to walk along the edge before hopping onto the scaffolding below. That’s right—a mural’s supposed to be on here. There’s the faint outline of a mask and smiley face, white paint dripping down. Skeppy sighs in relief, heart pounding from the swing, but it turns to confusion the moment Bad takes out a small bag of grains and tosses it at the pigeons.

Okay? They fly down and peck at the crumbs, a crowd gathering around Bad who coos and gives them more. Once he runs out, a few stay to eat at the remaining bits but the rest return to the roof, where Skeppy runs to dodge the incoming swarm.

“Ack--” He cuts himself off but it’s too late, as Bad snaps his head up and makes eye contact with him. Skeppy briefly considers webbing the next building and swinging out of there like he’d do with other people, yet this is Bad he’s talking about, and doing so would only crush what respect he has for his superhero persona. He clears his throat in an attempt to salvage his poor arrival and stands on the scaffolds with him. “Hey, Bad. Whatcha doing here?”

Bad turns away. “Hi,” he says, in a tone that Skeppy can’t place. “Nothing much.”

“It’s getting pretty late.” He sits a couple of feet away from him and watches the city life below them. “Are you going to work on that?” He asks, pointing to the paint behind them.

“No.”

“Oh.” Well, there goes that plan. “I don’t--I don’t think it’s safe for you to be up here then, without permission or anything--”

Bad sniffs and pulls his hood down more. All coherent thoughts in Skeppy’s brain come to a screeching halt like an error message has popped up because something is _definitely_ wrong. He runs through the list of scenarios in his head: school was fine, his family is okay, their friends haven’t done anything, etc. There’s no crimes or events in the past few days that he knows that could’ve involved him, no villain attacks nearby, nothing. Bad doesn’t cry unless something absolutely terrible has happened, or if Skeppy’s pushed him too far and last he checked, he hasn’t tried to troll or prank him in weeks ever since crime rates kicked back up. Was it something he did? Now that he thinks about it, he was an hour late to school this morning, skipping the entirety of first period and his math test. The teachers glared at him when he burst into the classroom and Skeppy can only imagine how he must‘ve looked, hair sticking out in all directions and face sporting new bruises from the run-in with the thugs attempted robbery. Keyword, _attempted,_ because the minute he webbed them to the wall of the convenience store it was over in a second. Bad nearly had a heart attack when Skeppy greeted him in that state. Maybe that, or—

“It’s fine, they’re okay with me up here.” Bad sighs and wipes his face with his sleeve, jarring Skeppy out of his thought spiral. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Spider-man,” he says. His voice cracks at the end and Skeppy decides to not mention it. “Aren’t you busy?”

Since his “guy in a chair” left, there’s nothing for him to do. Nor would he dream of leaving Bad here alone. “Nope, I’m free for tonight.”

Bad doesn’t reply, kicking his legs back and forth as they watch the street below in silence. He rummages through his bag and hands him a muffin. “Here.”

It’s hard to see with nothing but city lights and the moon but knowing Bad, it’s probably his favorite. Lifting his mask up, Skeppy bites into it and hums. “This is good,” he says after swallowing a mouthful.

“Thank you.” Bad’s voice is still a little shaky. His next words make Skeppy choke. “I was gonna give it to my best friend, but he’s not here—are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just gimme a minute—“ Skeppy coughs, regretting every life decision he’s made up to this point. He sneaks a glance at his phone. There’s no missed text messages or calls from him and he can’t deny the jealousy that claws its way up his throat. “Your best friend?” He croaks out.

“Yup.” Bad zips his bag up. “It was for breakfast, but he showed up late to school so I kinda forgot.”

Yeah, that’s him. Skeppy tugs his mask back to hide his grin and quickly realizes that now’s not the time for that, especially when Bad sniffs again. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Partly true, he hasn’t eaten since lunch and his stomach growls for more.

“Glad you liked it.”

They sit in awkward silence, pigeons flapping their wings and cars driving in the background. The urge to ask him what’s wrong is almost unbearable; the question sits on the tip of his tongue yet Skeppy knows he _can’t_ and kicks his leg up. Being himself has its benefits sometimes. Spider-man has no business trying to pry into Bad’s social life, much less sit next to him at nearly midnight on the side of some building. But if it were him? Different story.

_Selfish, selfish, selfish,_ his mind chides him. Here he is, Bad on the verge of tears, and all he can think of is how it’s somehow his fault or how if he switched out of the costume, he could’ve cheered him up in a second.

In the end, he decides _fuck it,_ because whether or not he’s as close to him like this, Bad is his friend, and there is no way he is going to ignore this and move on. Thankfully, Bad begins the conversation for him. “Can I...talk to you about something?” He asks, choosing his words carefully.

“Uh, sure.” Skeppy shrugs. “Go for it.”

“Do you--I think--have you ever fallen in love?”

_What._ Skeppy almost hits his head on the scaffold poles. There are at least a dozen other questions he expected him to say and that’s nowhere on his list. “You’re talking to the wrong person,” he informs him.

Bad’s face falls, hope draining from his features as if it weren’t there a moment ago. Wrong reply, oh god. Skeppy grabs his hand. “I mean,” he adds, “I have. It’s...someone.” _It’s you._

“Oh.” Bad relaxes and shoots him a sympathetic smile despite his puffy eyes and tired gaze that makes Skeppy’s heart break. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Hard is an understatement. “Do you have someone you’re in love with?”

Bad nods. “My best friend.”

Skeppy freezes. There’s no way. _No way._

“The one you were gonna give the muffin to?” He blurts out. The voice in his head is back, screaming at him that he’s being selfish but he needs to know, needs to make sure—

Bad pauses. “Um, yes?” When he doesn’t reply, Bad takes it as a signal to continue. “We met a long time ago, and I’ve liked him since then.” Skeppy falls flat on his back and stares at the night sky, head reeling. _Holy shit._ Bad would kill him if he knew what was going on inside his head right now. “Mr. Spider-man?” Bad says, nudging him. “You okay?”

“Oh my god,” he mutters. Sitting back up, he buries his face in his hands, the mask suddenly too tight and lungs heaving in his chest.

“Spider-man?”

“Oh my god.” Skeppy muffles his scream. “Oh my _god.”_

“What’s wrong?” Bad stares at him, eyebrows knitted in pure confusion. It’d be adorable in any other scenario.

“Oh my—okay, Bad,” he says slowly. He glances over at him and Skeppy gulps. His face is five inches away from his and he doesn’t remember when they got that close. “I usually never do this, but you have to promise not to freak out, okay?”

“Um, okay?” Bad tilts his head, hood slipping. It lets Skeppy see his face much clearer in the night. “What is it?”

Skeppy sighs, and in one fluid motion, pulls off his mask.

The night air is cold and crisp, nice on his skin after hours of fighting crime in sweat and blood. His relief is short-lived though; he’s had plenty of near-death experiences, and the next few seconds remind him of one. The world around him begins to blur, city lights and the stars like golden flecks in the sky and Bad is the only thing his vision focuses on, his mind screaming at him to get the hell out of there _now,_ before he screws everything he’s worked for up. But no, his legs refuse to move and he sits there in stunned silence, holding his breath and waiting for his reaction.

“Skeppy?” Bad whispers. He adjusts his glasses and squints, inching closer and cupping the side of Skeppy’s face. His hands are warm. Then, much louder, _“Skeppy?!”_

He smiles weakly. “Hey, Bad.”

_“You’re_ Spider-man?!” Bad’s jaw drops and he covers his mouth with his hand, eyes widening. _“What the fu—muffin—“_

“Shhh!” Skeppy hisses and waves his hands frantically. He’s freaking out, he’s freaking out, of course, he should’ve expected this reaction. Bad almost cursing does make him smile a little bit, though. “Keep your voice down, people might hear you—“

“Oh my _goodness.”_ Bad shakes his head in shock. “How the—what the—Geppy, you, you--”

“Yeah, I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“‘A lot to take in,’ yeah, you’re _Spider-man?!”_ He echoes. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and that’s gotta be a record for a Bad breakdown because Skeppy expected it to last much longer, and is _not_ prepared at all when Bad speaks once more. _“You,”_ he says, tone akin to supervillains that have curb-stomped Skeppy to the ground like it was nothing and made civilians run in terror. His fight or flight instincts scream at him to save himself while he can. “You _muffinhead.”_

Laughing nervously, Skeppy rubs the back of his head and pales. If he squints just right, he can see mini red fumes coming from him. “Uh--”

“You mean to tell me,” Bad rages on, “that the reason you’ve been skipping school, coming with all these injuries, never hanging out with us anymore, is because you’re a _superhero?”_ He throws his hands up for emphasis. “Oh my goodness, and I thought--I can’t believe you!” The next slew of sentences are hard to hear, but with the vehement hand gestures and glare on his face, Skeppy gets the message anyway. PG insults can be very life-threatening when they need to be. “You are. The biggest. Muffinhead. In the world.” He jabs his finger into his chest. Skeppy grimaces. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?! You--” He groans. “--agh! _Skeppy!”_

“You promised you wouldn’t freak out!” He whines.

The look Bad fixes him with is enough to level a city. “Skeppy, you can’t just tell someone this and expect them _not_ to freak out!”

“Well, when I told--”

“You told _who?”_ Bad scoffs. “Who else knows?!”

“Um, Mega, Spifey, Zelk--” He says, counting them off on his fingers. “Okay, but that’s not the point! You’re different!”

“Oh, yeah?” He crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. “How am I different?!”

“You said it yourself!” Skeppy runs a hand through his hair. It’s probably as much of a mess as he is right now, strands stuck to the side of his face. “You _love_ me?” He repeats in disbelief.

Bad’s face turns red and he turns away, biting the inside of his cheek. “That’s--that’s not the issue here, you’re Spider-man—“

“What do you mean--it _is_ the issue, because if you hadn’t told me I would’ve never--”

“I didn’t even mean to tell you that in the first place!” Bad confesses. Pulling his hood over his face, he brings his knees up and hugs them.

“Neither did I!” Skeppy yells, scrambling to his feet. The sudden movement makes the scaffolds creak and on instinct, he flicks his wrist and sticks webs at Bad’s feet to secure him before swinging down and examining the rest of the structure. After making sure they’re not in danger of falling to their imminent deaths, he swings back up and lands next to Bad, who shrieks.

“Did you just _web_ me?!” He tries to stand, only to get his hands stuck in the webs. “Skeppy!”

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to! It’s a reflex!” Hastily switching the mode on his web-slinger, Skeppy sprays it on him as the webs dissolve and Bad jumps and backs away, shaking off the excess substance. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, cradling his arm. The pigeons above them screech and fill the silence for them. Skeppy almost misses his next words, spoken under his breath. “You really are Spider-man, huh?”

“I know.” He sighs. “I’m not really what you expected as him but—“

“Are you serious?” Bad’s expression softens, a small smile on his face, sitting down and dangling his legs over the edge. Almost as if he’s teasing him. “Skeppy, I should’ve known it was you. Besides skipping class and everything,” he waves a hand dismissively, “you’re the only person I can think of that’d spend hours every day helping people and fighting the bad guys. And even when you’re not, you’re here with me.” He turns around to look at him and pats the ground beside him to sit down. “I’m sorry I never noticed. And that I yelled at you,” he adds as an afterthought.

Skeppy blinks. Once. Twice. First of all, Bad shouldn’t be the one apologizing. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s his own fault. Second, although the anger has faded, Bad’s gaze is just as intense and it’s a miracle his head is able to produce coherent thoughts still because it feels like his entire conscience is being reexamined as well as the fact they’re sitting right next to each other and his thoughts are loud enough to be heard across the city. “It’s okay,” he says. “I kinda deserved it.”

“No, you had your reasons and I respect that.” Bad laughs and extends his arms out. “Hug?”

That’s all he’s ever wanted. “Sure.”

Bad’s one of the tallest people in his grade. Their PE teacher wants him on the basketball team and not him, despite the fact Skeppy’s beaten him countless times at every sport there is (sure, he had his powers to help, but that’s not the point). It’s something he’s overlooked for years, mainly because aside from everyone else taller than him, Bad would only occasionally point it out. He’s fought supervillains the size of skyscrapers, talked to heroes double his height and half his size, practiced trying to look like the bigger person because any sign of weakness would cost him his life. Yet as he wraps his arms around his chest, Skeppy realizes how small he himself actually is, breathing in the cool night air and the sweet scent of Bad and his hoodie, wondering if the _thump, thump, thump_ of his heart hammering in his chest is something he can hear as well. There’s no way any of this is real, but the bruises on his back speak for themselves and Bad’s alive and a person and he lo—

Wait.

“So,” he says, voice muffled by Bad’s hoodie, “are we just gonna ignore how you literally told me that you lov--”

_“Anyway,”_ Bad clears his throat and much to Skeppy’s disappointment, pushes him away from their embrace. “This was a terrible place to confess this to me, Skeppy. I’m pretty sure someone could’ve taken like, ten pictures of us and post it online somewhere."

“Nah.” Skeppy shakes his head, stifling his laughter. ”There are a lot of people online who try to pretend to be me, so nobody knows for sure.”

“What?!” Taking out his phone, Bad scrolls through posts and threads of people in some knock-off of his original suit. “You should make an official social media account or something,” he advises. “You don’t have to show your face, but..still.” He shows him an account. “Sixty-nine thousand followers?”

He chuckles at that. “Heh, nice.”

Bad huffs. “That’s a lot. Some people actually think it’s you—oh! You know what? I could help you make one!” He beams, eyes sparkling.

“Uh.” He’s really never cared much about that sort of thing. “Thanks, Bad, but I don’t think I’ll ever make one.”

“Oh—“

“But,” he interrupts, “there’s something else you can help me with.”

Bad stops and turns to stare at him, hope clear on his face. “What is it?”

Skeppy almost feels bad for what he’s about to say. “Can I have a kiss?” Not really--Bad’s face goes red in seconds and he bursts out laughing at the sheer sight of it, clutching his sides. “Oh my _god,_ your face—“

”Wha—“ Bad stammers. “Why—“

”I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He says before things get too out of hand. The night’s already a trainwreck, so he smiles, oddly giddy as the bubbly feeling in his chest rises. “I love you too, you know, but you don’t have to get involved with,” he pauses, “with all of _this.”_ He gestures to himself. “I don’t want you to get hurt or--”

The rest of his sentence dies as Bad presses a quick kiss to his cheek, halting all brain activity immediately. His face feels as if it’s on fire and that’s one more thing to cross off on his list of things that he never expected would happen in his life. Bad avoids looking at him and takes off his glasses, wiping them clean before turning back. “I want to, though,” he says firmly. “I don’t know much about superhero-ing but you shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. You should take a break from patrols for a bit; get some rest, catch up on school, and relax. You can’t save the city without taking care of yourself first.”

He yawns. His whole body aches, and he can’t deny that Bad’s right. “Yeah,” he admits. “Do you wanna go get coffee or something?"

“Right now?” Bad stares at him and smiles. His advice does work. “Won’t they all be closed by the time we get there?”

“Not if we take my way.” Already pulling on his mask, Skeppy wraps an arm around Bad and webs the building across the street. After making sure they’re both secure, he flashes a grin at him. “Hold on!” He yells, leaping off the building and letting the adrenaline rush kick in as Bad screams in his ears.

_“Skeppy!”_

**Author's Note:**

> technically a crack fic (the title is literally a lyric from last friday night - katy perry lmao) treated seriously-ish but i didnt tag it because everything i write at this point can be classified as that to be completely honest 
> 
> \-- 
> 
> bad 1 mil, congrats to him!! also skeppy’s heading to college, good luck!!
> 
> __
> 
> https://twitter.com/solarskep/status/1327959539509915648 
> 
> THERES ART HOLY


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